


Will We Gather to Conjure the Rain Down?

by roaroftheninth



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Supernatural, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:18:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roaroftheninth/pseuds/roaroftheninth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark is a witch; Eduardo is his familiar. Sean Parker is the one who messes everything up (not on purpose, he swears), and Christy is the roommate who is actually pretty good at tolerating all the drama.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And All the Boys You Drag About (Christy's Version)

**Author's Note:**

> This story is written in three parts: Christy's version of events, Eduardo's version, and Sean's version. I like chapters; sue me. (I also like semi-colons.) The witch/familiar concept caught my interest after an episode of Supernatural this season wherein someone framed a witch for a slew of murders and his familiar was trying to clear his name, but I wouldn't say I borrowed enough for this to be considered a crossover (you may feel differently, if you've seen the episode in question). The title of this story and each chapter come from various Decemberists songs. 
> 
> \--

The first time Christy meets Mark, it’s at a fundraiser for one of the women’s organizations that Erica volunteers for. Christy and her flavour of the week are on a double date with Erica and Mark, which Christy is mostly doing as a favour because Erica spent four hours intermittently begging and threatening her. Christy’s date, Brent, is a lacrosse player and correspondingly one of the dimmest people on campus, which doesn’t mean that he’s not Christy’s type; it just means that she’s bored ten minutes in and wants to drag him off to a dark corner somewhere so she can see if those abs live up to their reputation. 

“So Mark, what are you into?” Christy asks, because Brent is loudly trying to explain what an ‘offside’ is in hockey and Christy would really rather be knee-capped. 

Mark lifts his shoulder in a one-sided shrug. “Nothing that would be of interest to you.”

They don’t get off to a great start, needless to say, and Christy bitches about him afterward although she kind of gets the feeling that she’s preaching to the choir. Erica breaks up with him six weeks later, and Christy takes her out to get shit-faced because seriously, _fuck_ that guy. 

When September rolls around, Erica wins the lottery with a single room in residence, and Christy decides she’d rather move off-campus than live with the plastic-looking freshman who keeps stealing Christy’s towels and hinting that she wants to be taken to ‘the real parties’. It’s about time to grow up, anyway; Christy’s in fourth year now, and she kind of wants to take school at least mildly seriously. It’s hard to do that when all your floormates want to do is keg-stands in the common room at four in the morning.

As she’s looking through the ‘Roommate Wanted’ ads, she finds one in a neighbourhood she doesn’t hate that has a bus stop right outside and a grocery store on the corner. Rent is decent, utilities included, and Christy doesn’t even look at the name on the listing before she picks up the phone and dials. 

“Yes.”

Christy frowns. “Mark?”

“Yes.”

 _You’ve got to be fucking kidding me._ Christy looks longingly at the listing. It’s the _perfect_ apartment. Maybe she can just avoid him. He seems like the type to keep to himself anyway. “This is Christy. Erica’s friend? I’m calling about the listing.”

There’s a pause. “Come by tomorrow and look at it if you want. I’ll be here until three.”

Christy does go, although she second-guesses herself more than once. Still, the apartment is as great as the listing made it sound, despite the Spartan feel to it – Mark doesn’t seem to be into decorating, about which Christy would like to register her complete lack of surprise – and she finds herself smiling at the end of the tour.

“When can I move in?”

Mark considers it. “Next week, if you want. Billy paid this month’s rent already before he got kicked out of school.”

Christy blinks. Smiles. “Awesome.”

“There’s one thing.” Mark shifts from one foot to the other. “I have a dog. He’s quiet. You won’t even know he’s here.”

Christy gives him a mock-stern look. “Naughty, violating the lease.”

Mark just looks at her. “Are you going to tell the landlord?”

Christy actually thinks it’s kind of sweet that inherent-asshole Mark Zuckerberg has a cute and cuddly dog hidden away in his apartment, but she doesn’t say so. “Don’t worry about it. You said I wouldn’t even know he’s here, right?”

Mark nods. They shake on it (awkwardly, for Mark’s part). 

The following week, Christy moves in.

She discovers that she was right about Mark. He does keep to himself, shut up inside of his room doing god knows what. She sees him with a laptop all the time, so she assumes he’s doing something computer-ish; Erica had mentioned that he likes to build websites, so maybe it’s that. Christy really couldn’t care less what Mark does with his time; she’s got her own junk to worry about, since one week Brent is threatening to punch in the teeth of Christy’s latest fling and the next week there are three papers due and the week after that she’s planning a major party for Alice, one of her very best drinking buddies. 

(Christy doesn’t harbour any illusions about being friends with Alice after university. They once gave simultaneous blowjobs to two different dudes in adjacent bathroom stalls. That’s not the kind of person you call when you’re thirty to look after your kids for the night.)

She also finds out that Mark wasn’t lying about how quiet his dog is. Christy really does forget he’s there a lot of the time. He must spend a large portion of his day inside of Mark’s room, because she never sees him when she leaves for class in the morning or comes back in the afternoon. He’s a black border collie with white paws and a white patch near one of his eyes, and sometimes he’ll flop down next to her on the couch and let her scratch his belly. 

The dog must really love Mark, though, because as soon as he comes home, the collie takes a flying leap off the couch and hurls himself at the door like he’s been waiting nine hundred years for Mark to come back. If Mark cooks, the dog follows him around the kitchen. If Mark watches TV, the dog curls up at his feet. Christy is pretty sure that anti-social Mark Zuckerberg is never going to get that kind of unconditional love from a human being, but she’s not that sad about it because he brings it on himself. 

One day, she says, “What’s his name? Your puppy.”

“He’s twenty-something in dog years,” Mark says, absently scratching the collie behind the ears. “Not really a puppy. I call him Cach.” 

Christy tries it. “Catch?”

“No. Cach. _Cachorro_ is ‘dog’ in Portuguese.”

“So you named your dog, Dog?” Christy really shouldn’t be surprised. Trust Mark Zuckerberg.

A glimmer of irritation crosses Mark’s face. “Yes.”

“Right.” Christy gives the dog a pat, and the dog turns and licks her hand. Mark glares at the collie like he has been personally betrayed. Christy almost rolls her eyes.

“I’ll see you later,” she says, grabbing her purse. “Mark. And Cach, the borderless collie.”

Mark almost, almost smiles at that, and Christy decides that she will honestly never figure him out.

\--

They are almost halfway through the semester before Christy meets Eduardo. He is simply sitting on the floor in their front hallway one day when she comes home, his bookbag across his knees and a sharp suit on that is almost definitely too expensive to be making contact with their possibly less-than-pristine floor. 

He scrambles to his feet immediately when he sees her. 

“Good call,” she says, shrugging out of her jacket and hanging it up. “The front hallway is Mark’s responsibility and since I gather you know him, you probably also can hazard a guess on how long it’s been since it’s been cleaned.”

The stranger smiles, and Christy notices the way his eyes crinkle in the corners, like she is a genuine delight. It makes her smile back.

“I’m Christy.”

“Eduardo.”

“Eduardo,” Christy repeats. “That sounds exotic.”

“I’m from Brazil,” Eduardo replies, still with that too-big-for-his-face smile. “Miami, recently, but Brazil first.”

Christy flicks her hair with that careless precision that makes men go weak in the knees. Eduardo follows her hand but otherwise doesn’t really react, which is when she starts to piece together that either this guy and her roommate are fucking or Eduardo wants them to be. “Mark seems to really have a thing for Brazil.”

Eduardo’s eyebrows rise, in a way that looks like he's desperately trying not to be pleased. “What do you mean?”

“He named his dog the Portuguese word for ‘dog’, didn't he?” Christy says, side-stepping him to get into the living room. If she can’t sleep with him, he’s going to have to work for Gay Best Friend status. Christy isn’t just anyone’s hag. “He could have had Fluffy or Fido but no. ‘Dog’. Mark Zuckerberg, ladies and gentlemen.”

“Mark is a strange guy,” Eduardo says, in a way that is too affectionate to be remotely meaningful. 

“Yes he is,” Christy replies, dragging her textbooks out of her bag and stacking them on the coffee table. “Would you like to stick around and wait for him, Eduardo? Somewhere that’s more comfortable than the hallway floor?”

Eduardo accepts her offer and curls up sort of cross-legged on the couch, which should look ungainly for someone his height but somehow seems to work. Christy decides not to question it and flicks on the TV. “Look for something good,” she says carelessly.

When Eduardo settles on the Weather Network, she gives him a look. “Are you kidding?”

Eduardo smiles. “I’m sorry. I like this stuff.”

“You and Mark must get along like a house on fire,” she says. “He watches this channel like it’s his job when he gets home from class.”

“I never got the feeling that Mark was into meteorology,” Eduardo says, with a strange expression on his face. If Christy didn’t know better, she’d wonder if he were teasing her, but for the life of her she can’t figure out what the joke is.

When Mark does arrive home, he looks startled to see Eduardo curled up next to Christy on the couch.

“Oh, good, you’re home.” Eduardo tosses him the remote. “Christy let me watch the weather for an hour.”

“I wasn’t watching anyway, I have a ton of reading to do,” Christy says, lest Mark thinks she’s some kind of super weirdo who likes – and hang on a second, anyway, why exactly is there a need to justify herself to Mark Zuckerberg?

“What are you doing here?” Mark asks.

“I got out of class early and I had some phone calls to make,” Eduardo replies. “No big deal. I just came here to wait for you.”

Mark surveys them for a moment, then wordlessly turns and disappears into his room. Eduardo gives Christy an apologetic look. 

“Sorry,” he says, for some reason, and follows in Mark’s wake. The door closes behind him. Neither one comes out by the time Christy goes to bed at eleven.

\--

Eduardo appears more regularly now. Christy gathers that he and Mark go way back, although Eduardo is evasive about it when she asks him – _we met in freshman year, at a party or something_ – and Mark just flat-out ignores her. It’s not really Christy’s business, but when Eduardo comes over, he usually stays the night but is somehow gone without her having heard anything when the morning comes. 

She mentions it to Erica one day, casually, and Erica looks thoughtful.

“They can’t be.”

“What?” Christy takes a spoonful of yogurt. “Fucking?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s against the rules.”

Christy raises an eyebrow. “We live in the twenty-first century. People can fuck whoever they want.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Erica says, but she doesn’t bother to clarify and Christy’s phone goes off just then, so they don’t circle back to it. 

It’s not long after that that Christy brings Sean by the apartment. They only sleep together once or twice and then the shine wears off, but she likes him enough, the way his brain moves at a zillion miles per hour, that she invites him over anyway just for kicks. The first time Mark meets Sean, it’s immediately apparent that he feels the same way.

“I’m Sean Parker,” he says, handing Mark a beer. Something seems to pass between the two of them, although Christy couldn’t tell you what it is.

“Mark,” Mark replies, his fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of the bottle. “We should talk.”

They disappear into Mark’s room, and Christy doesn’t see them for a long time, although when Sean does leave, it’s not without incident.

What gets Christy’s attention is the sudden, unexpected sound of Cach growling, deep in his throat. She looks up, startled, in time to see Sean beat a hasty retreat. Mark stands beside Cach, not bothering to quiet the dog, watching Sean go. 

It happens every time Sean comes, not that Christy could explain why the dog hates him so much. Sean’s visits begin to be timed for when Mark will be home, not Christy, and she has no idea what the nature of their relationship could be but it’s not really worth pressing it. Sean comes at all hours of the day and night and always stays for awhile, although consistently, Cach snarls at him like he’s the devil himself. 

Right before Christmas break, Sean says something like, “Get your dog under control”, and for some reason it sounds like he’s been working up the political capital that he needs with Mark to say it. The dog barks at him, like he understands, and Sean just shakes his head and leaves. Mark grabs the collie by the collar and hauls him into his room. It’s the first time Christy’s seen Mark come remotely close to even having to discipline the dog. 

Around the same time, Eduardo and Mark have a falling out. Neither of them will explain why, but it’s obvious that whatever happened is a pretty big deal. Christy knows that Eduardo planned to stay with Mark over the holidays; she gathers that he’s not close with his own family. Eventually he looks so gloomy about everything that she invites him to come home with her instead. He is reluctant at first, but eventually he acquiesces, as she’d known he would. 

Her family loves him. Of course.

When they come back from break, Christy’s got friends to see, club meetings to be dragged to (by Erica), and men to size up and dismiss. She only notices something is amiss on the Thursday after classes start, when Cach curls up next to her on the couch, closer than usual, and rests his chin on her knee. 

Mark comes out of his room not long after, takes one look at them, and snorts. “That’s how you want to do this?” He asks the dog.

Cach’s ears tilt toward Mark’s voice, but he doesn’t otherwise acknowledge his presence. It’s a drastic change from the way the collie used to follow him around. 

Mark dismisses it. “Fine.” He stalks into the kitchen and starts slamming pots and pans around. Both Christy and the dog ignore him.

Fourth year is a busy one, and Christy is in mid-terms before she knows it, neck-deep in assignments and trying desperately to scribble through her thesis. It’s why she’s home on a Saturday night, in her favourite over-sized hoodie with her feet tucked up under her, when it happens.

There’s a crash at the front door, and Mark almost falls headlong into the apartment. Christy looks up, startled; Mark has his fingers wrapped around Cach’s collar so tightly that his knuckles are white, and there’s blood on his hands. Upon closer inspection, the blood reveals itself to be Cach’s; the collie almost drags himself into the apartment, whimpering a little when Mark forces him to lie down on the relative cleanliness of the living room floor.

Christy is off the couch in a second. “What happened? Jesus.” She drops to her knees, her eyes raking over the collie’s body. “It looks like something attacked him. Is there a coyote on campus?”

Mark ignores her. “Eduardo, I need you to help me.”

Christy sits back and gives him an odd look. “Mark, what – Eduardo’s not here. You need to call a vet.”

Mark rubs the collie’s ears back, scratching his neck soothingly. “Wardo, I can fix this, but I need you to – you have to change back.”

And then occurs the strangest moment of Christy’s life so far.

Cach the border collie lengthens and stretches out and his hair shrinks away, and what’s left in his place is Eduardo, the same one Christy dragged home at Christmas time, who has only recently begun to be on speaking terms with Mark again. He’s wearing a button-down shirt and slacks, but both are ripped; he’s bleeding rather alarmingly, and his eyes are squeezed shut. Christy spots the source of the pain immediately, when his newly-human hands travel to his abdomen and press down on the gush of blood. 

“What the fuck,” she breathes, but it doesn’t get less strange.

Mark goes to his bedroom and returns with a thick book and an armful of recycled jam jars that all seem to hold bizarre substances. He throws a pinch of this and a dash of that into an old bowl, his hands moving in swift, deft motions, and then he flips open the book like it has personally wronged him and tears through the pages.

When he finds what he’s looking for, he reads a few words that mean little to Christy as he rests his hand on the top of the bowl. Then, he gently tugs aside Eduardo’s hands and rubs the mixture into the wound, like a poultice. Eduardo hisses and his back arches a little, but he doesn’t try to pull away. 

Mark leaves his hand over the wound as some of the tension seems to drain out of his shoulders and he leans down to rest his forehead against Eduardo’s.

“I’m sorry,” Mark says, which Christy thinks might be the first time he’s ever said it.

“It’s already forgiven,” Eduardo tells him, and Christy might gag right now if this weren’t so simultaneously sweet and really, _really_ fucking weird. 

Eduardo sits up, shakily, and Christy wonders where all of this goddamn miracle magic came from because Eduardo’s wound has almost totally stopped bleeding. Eduardo does glance over at her then, and he smiles a little guiltily.

“Hi, Christy. Sorry about that.”

Christy just shakes her head slightly for a moment at the buzz of questions tumbling around inside her skull and picks one at random. She feels like she's handling this pretty well, considering. “How long have you been a dog?”

Eduardo shrugs a little, even as Mark watches that wound like a hawk to make sure it won’t reopen. “Since always. I mean, the lore is kind of unclear but I think it’s one of those things where something attaches itself to you when you’re born. You’re chosen. It’s like a gift.”

“Or a curse,” Mark mutters, and he begins screwing the lids back onto all of his jars.

Christy glances at him. “Why is it a curse?”

Mark doesn’t answer. Eduardo glances at him, realizes he isn’t going to say anything, and does his best: “I’m really just a conduit for other peoples’ magic. I can channel it, direct it, make it stronger, repurpose it, but I can’t use it myself.”

Christy raises an eyebrow. “Really? So people just use you?”

“Yes,” Mark says.

“No,” Eduardo protests. “It’s not – like that.”

“What’s it like?” Christy asks.

“It’s… there’s one familiar for one witch. It’s not like anyone could just channel their magic through me. I picked Mark, and now we’re bonded.”

Mark gathers up the rest of his supplies and abruptly leaves the room. Christy looks quizzically after him.

“He gets upset,” Eduardo says with a sigh. “We met when he went to Florida on a family vacation when he was twelve and I was fourteen. I was serving as my father’s familiar and it wasn’t – a good experience. When I met Mark, something kind of… happened between us. I don’t know what to call it. But even after he went home, we ended up communicating online, back and forth until Mark turned eighteen. Once he had control over the inheritance he picked up from his grandparents, he snuck me out of Miami.”

Christy leans back on her hands. _Interesting._ “So you two are on the run?”

“Not really.” Eduardo edges back so he can lean against the base of the couch. He looks worn out. “I don’t even know if my father is looking for us. But I don’t want to take the chance.”

Christy considers this, nodding. “And are you two fucking?”

Eduardo looks simultaneously startled and guilty. “What?”

“I didn’t stutter,” Christy says sweetly.

Eduardo is obviously flustered. “We’re not supposed to,” he says, evading the question. “There are rules that govern the conduct between witches and familiars. Way back when, we weren’t even supposed to let them know that we could be human.”

Christy stares at him. “So everyone was just an animal all the time?”

“It’s not a _bad_ thing,” Eduardo says, smiling a little at her obvious distaste. “I _like_ being a dog. It’s relaxing. And I am a _scary_ judge of character when I’m in that shape.”

Christy grimaces. “To each their very own.” She indicates his wound. “You’re good now?”

Eduardo nods once, his eyes fluttering shut. “I will be,” he says. “Mark is – he’s really good at this kind of stuff. I just need some rest.”

“Do that,” Christy says. “You’re going job-hunting tomorrow.”

Eduardo’s eyes open. “Sorry?”

Patting him on the knee, she pushes herself to her feet. “If there are three people living here, we’re splitting the rent three ways.”

Eduardo sort of gapes at her. 

Christy takes it as acquiescence and grins. “Good dog.” She disappears into the kitchen to grab a sponge for the not-insignificant amount of blood on the floor.

"But I'm a magical dog spirit," Eduardo calls plaintively.

Christy snorts. "I like Greek yogurt."

"What?"

She returns with the sponge and a bottle of cleaner. "Oh, I'm sorry. I thought we were talking about things that don't matter."

Eduardo looks at least faintly amused as he watches her scrub at the blood. "I can't believe you discover that witchcraft is real and your reaction is to jack my rent."

"Well, people just don't go for a good, old-fashioned witch-burning like they used to." Christy tucks her hair behind her as she cleans. "And besides, I'm pretty sure that your adorable border collie side has seen me naked a number of times and that should cost at least four hundred a month plus utilities." 

Eduardo has the grace to flush. Christy only laughs at him.


	2. How I Lived a Childhood in Snow (Eduardo's Version)

“I put up an ad for a roommate,” Mark says suddenly.

 

It’s a Wednesday during the third week of September, and Eduardo is already studying almost more than he sleeps. He looks up from his second time through these particular readings and squints vaguely.

 

“Roommate?”

 

“Yes.” Mark is at his computer, refreshing the online listings. “We can’t afford the rent now that Billy’s gone and I’m almost through my savings.”

 

“We could work part-time,” Eduardo points out.

 

“No. We can’t.” Mark spins around in his desk chair to look at him. “You have too much to do as it is. You hold Investor’s Association meetings like it’s your job and you do the mandatory readings three times and the recommended readings twice for every class. And I can’t work because I don’t want to, and because my mother will find out and ask where all of my savings went.”

 

Guilt blooms on Eduardo’s face as he looks down and away. “I’m sorry, Mark, I…”

 

“Don’t be sorry,” Mark says sharply. “I did it because I wanted to.”

 

Mark will never regret spending his inheritance on Eduardo. He knows with a certainty that smacks of God that he was right to do it.

 

Eduardo smiles. “You know you freed me.”

 

Mark snorts. “Yes. And then you chose to come here and re-enslave yourself.”

 

“It’s not slavery if it’s voluntary,” Eduardo tells him. “And we’re better than that, anyway. Our souls are bonded.”

 

Mark doesn’t say anything; he just spins around on his chair again and goes back to his computer. The mushy way people talk about witches and their familiars is one of his least-favourite things about witchcraft.

 

\--

 

Eduardo’s in the apartment when Mark shows Christy around, although he stays hidden away in Mark’s room, chin resting on his paws, since it’s the only part of the place that won’t be shown to her. He finds he’s a better judge of character when he’s in his spirit shape.

 

Even from behind a closed door, Eduardo likes the way Christy smells. She’s a dog person; he can tell that right away. She asks open-ended questions that force Mark to answer in more than monosyllables and she laughs a lot. He thinks at Mark,  _I like her._

 

Mark’s response is swift:  _You like everyone._

 

Nevertheless, Mark asks her to move in.

 

Eduardo makes friends right away while Christy is unpacking. He climbs up onto one of her suitcases and makes that silly, mouth-wide-open, tongue-hanging-out, tail-wagging face that makes people want to shower dogs with affection, and Christy is not immune. She is all over him, rubbing him behind the ears and telling him how he’s the most adorable dog in the whole world, and Eduardo can almost  _feel_  Mark rolling his eyes from the living room.

 

 _Suck up,_  Mark says.

 

 _I think you mean, most adorable dog in the whole world,_  Eduardo replies airily.

 

Mark’s only answer is a muted feeling of disgust that makes Eduardo grin to himself.

 

Over the next little while, Eduardo does a drive-by reaffirmation of Christy’s affection every now and again, flopping down beside her when she’s on the couch and give her his best  _petmepetmepetme_  eyes. Mark barely speaks to her, and Eduardo wants to make sure she stays; after all, she hasn’t ratted Mark out to the landlord for having a pet, and Eduardo thinks she might even not mind Mark, in a peculiar, we’re-not-friends-but-I’d-let-you-borrow-my-stuff kind of way. The people who can tolerate Eduardo’s witch on a long-term basis are few and far between.

 

The only better roommate might be another witch, but the campus doesn’t seem big on the Occult. Eduardo can sense when one passes by, and it doesn’t happen often in these parts. He supposes that’s one of the reasons why they chose this college in the backwoods part of Massachusetts. Witches are typically the sort of people who drift together in big cities precisely because of the way they’ve been driven to the edges of society by regular people; they often have extensive networks, and while Eduardo isn’t exactly hiding from his father, he’d also really rather not be found.

 

Mark is in worse danger than he is, Eduardo knows; Mr. Saverin would just drag Eduardo back home, but he would  _kill_  Mark.  

 

Although Eduardo can say without any kind of pretention or exaggeration that he would defend Mark to the death.

 

He never wants to go back to the misery that was being his father’s familiar, never allowed to shift into his spirit shape unless they were performing spells, homeschooled so that he was always at the old man’s beck and call, helping to build a business so vast and powerful that they had to flee Brazil because other witches were calling foul play and making threats on his life. The worst part was that a familiar is supposed to choose his or her witch; it’s a foundational aspect of everything that they are, and Eduardo was never consulted about whether he wanted to work for his father. The magic always felt wrong; warped.

 

For the record, what Eduardo can do isn’t cheating. He’s just a very, very powerful channel for other peoples’ magic.

 

So maybe it’s for the best that Mark’s roommate is just an ordinary person who does ordinary things; Eduardo’s a little shy when it comes to other witches for understandable reasons, and this way he doesn’t have to worry about people finding out about the exact nature of his and Mark’s relationship.

 

The day he comes home from class and ‘meets’ Christy – she thinks it’s the first time, while Eduardo knows it isn’t – is the occasion of an unusually intense outburst from Mark. Eduardo’s only sitting in the hall in his human shape because he needs to make some calls on behalf of the Investors Association, and he is actually happy to have a chance to talk to Christy, who would definitely be Eduardo’s type if he weren’t wrapped up in Mark Zuckerberg.

 

When Mark leads the way into their bedroom and shuts the door, though, Eduardo is immediately engulfed in a wave of Mark’s anger. He doesn’t feel all of Mark’s feelings, and he’s sure Mark doesn’t feel most of his, but he gets the strong ones, and the ones that Mark wants him to get.

 

“Mark – ” Eduardo begins.

 

“People aren’t supposed to associate you with me,” Mark snaps.

 

“I know that, Mark,” Eduardo says patiently. “It’s only Christy.”

 

“Christy knows everyone on campus.” Mark’s mouth is set in a flat, furious line. “She only has to casually mention it once and it will be enough information for anyone who comes looking. Not to mention the fact that we break several rules just by sleeping in the same room. We don’t need to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Eduardo says, trying to lighten the mood. “I got the impression that you liked me in this shape when you got into the shower with me yesterday morning.”

 

“Yeah, this will be really funny while we’re standing trial in front of the Coven,” Mark says, clipped. “Or while I’m being murdered by the psychopath I stole you from in Miami.”

 

“You think my father will find out about us just because Christy now associates the two of us? We’re not even using our real last names, Mark.”

 

Mark’s eyes are dark. “Don’t call him your father. Familiar spirits are born into human vessels but he’s not your father.”

 

Eduardo sighs. Mr. Saverin raised him, and Eduardo’s so-called human vessel takes after him, so for all intents and purposes he is very much Eduardo’s father. But Eduardo knows that this is a sore point for Mark; someone used and mistreated his familiar before he acquired him, and he will accordingly never forgive Ricardo Saverin.

 

“I promise that it will be fine,” Eduardo says, trying to reassure him. “Honestly, Mark. We’ve been here for long enough that we can just make up some story about having met a couple of years ago and how we periodically cross paths. No one’s going to find that suspicious. The Coven in town barely registers our presence. They just don’t care about small-time college-age witches and their harmless familiars.”

 

Mark is still frowning, but he doesn’t seem to have any other points to raise. He watches Eduardo for long enough that it gets strange, and Eduardo takes his hand.

 

“Don’t worry,” he says again. “It’ll be fine.”

 

It is fine, of course, like Eduardo knew it would be. He’s not going to pretend he wasn’t nervous in the early days, because Mark’s paranoia is kind of contagious, but as time goes by and the sky doesn’t open up on them, Eduardo relaxes. He and Christy go shopping occasionally, because Christy has a wicked eye for men’s fashion and she likes to try on revealing outfits to see if she can make him blush (she totally can, every time). They’re friends, but not best. It’s an arrangement that works for everybody.

 

Except Mark, maybe. He scowls whenever Christy says something that makes Eduardo laugh, and he stays hidden in his lair when they’re both hanging out in the living room. But that’s Mark, and Eduardo knows that you can try a long time to make Mark Zuckerberg happy and still come out with mixed results.

 

Everything changes mid-semester the first time Sean Parker steps into their apartment.

 

Eduardo can tell he’s a witch right away; so can Mark, and he immediately drags Sean into the bedroom so they can talk where Christy can’t hear them. Eduardo, a collie at the moment, pads after them and lies down at the foot of the bed, keeping a wary eye on Sean.

 

“Is this your familiar?” Sean says, leaning down to ruffle Eduardo’s fur. “Hey, buddy.”

 

Afterward, Eduardo obsessively stands in front of the mirror and smoothes each strand of hair back into place, scowling.

 

“I should have told him about your fifteen-step hair process,” Mark says from the bedroom, deadpan.

 

Eduardo doesn’t choose to dignify that with an answer.

 

(But, okay. If he’s being honest with himself, it’s one of the reasons why he initially decides not to like Sean Parker.)

 

It goes downhill from there.

 

Sean starts spending more time in the apartment. It’s evident from the beginning that he and Mark are like minds; Mark always wants to think bigger and push his magic further, but he hasn’t really had a mentor. Eduardo does his best – he knows a lot about magic; it kind of comes with the territory – but Mark hasn’t had a lot of opportunities to progress. It’s not like witchcraft is one of those things you can learn on the Internet. You can Google spells, but you can’t get the _feel_ for the magic, and that’s what’s important.

 

Sean and Mark start to spend more and more time talking about a project Sean calls _the Cloud._ From what Eduardo can gather, it’s a bit like Dropbox, except for magic. Witches anywhere can use it as an information-sharing network that they can access magically. It’s Sean’s brainchild, but Mark turns it over inside the super-computer that lives inside his skull and comes out with brilliant proposals to make it cleaner, more efficient, and more accessible.

 

They sit together in Mark’s room while Eduardo’s in class, drafting complicated algorithms and schematics that will allow them to use magic the way they want to. Mark doesn’t ask for Eduardo’s help with anything out of the ordinary – the odd stay-awake spell, a cure for a cough he picks up in the CS lab – but Eduardo knows that the time is coming when Mark will need a significant amount of juice to get the Cloud off the ground.

 

Eduardo’s worried about that. It’s not that he thinks he can’t do it – he knows he can – but like a surge of electricity, throwing a sudden super-sized burst of magic out into the atmosphere might, in layman’s terms, blow the breaker. The Coven does things like this sometimes, big-time projects that require big-time magic, but they always set up safeguards. Eduardo doesn’t think that Sean and Mark are thinking _safeguards_ when they’re up at all hours sketching out blueprints and muttering to each other.

 

There’s also the not insignificant fact that Sean Parker, for all intents and purposes, appears not to have a familiar. Eduardo doesn’t understand why, but something about Sean’s magic reminds him of the taste of metal and he doesn’t like it.

 

Eduardo’s alone in the apartment when someone knocks on the door one Wednesday morning, two weeks before Christmas break. He decides he’d rather keep ripping apart the vaguely duck-shaped chew toy Christy got him – Eduardo has a human brain, but it has some very doggy patterns in it – but the knocking persists, and it reaches a point where Eduardo can hear voices on the other side of the door, calling for entry.

 

Altering his shape, he goes to the door, smoothing his suit jacket and his hair in turn.

 

On the other side, two monsters block out the sun.

 

Or rather, two men, identical-looking, with more height than is probably fair for any one family. And Eduardo knows they are witches, like he knows the shape and colour and scent of Mark’s magic.

 

“Are we addressing Mark Zuckerberg?”

 

Eduardo shakes his head. “No. No, he’s – out. He’s got class all day on Wednesdays.” Actually, Mark will be back before three, but the strangers don’t need to know that.

 

The twins glance at one another. “Are you Eduardo Saverin?”

 

Eduardo’s grip tightens marginally on the doorframe. Everything about these two witches sets his nerves on edge. The part of him that is always border collie, just under his consciousness, has its hackles raised.

 

“I am. Who’s asking?”

 

One of the twins smiles politely. “We represent the area Coven, Branch 864.”

 

Eduardo feels something drop out of his stomach. “Can I help you with something?”

 

“Oh, we hope so.” That’s the other twin now, though if they were to change positions when Eduardo’s back was turned he’d never know the difference. “We’ve been noticing some strange patterns coming from this area. Mr. Zuckerberg is the only practicing witch so it must be him. Can you explain what he’s setting off test surges for?”

 

Eduardo blinks. _Test surges?_ “I didn’t know he was doing that.”

 

The twins glance at one another again. It’s starting to get eerie, the perfect timing every time. “You didn’t know?” One of them asks, like he’s not sure that can be true.

 

“How can you not know?” A third voice asks the question, and the twins move apart slightly so that Eduardo can see the shorter man standing behind them. Eduardo knows immediately that this is a familiar, although he couldn’t say which twin he is bonded to.

 

“He’s been working by himself a lot,” Eduardo lies, because something tells him not to bring up Sean’s name. Maybe if he downplays this, they’ll leave it alone. “I knew he was planning something but until he needs real magic, I’ve been leaving him to it. I’ve got a course overload this semester and I’m pretty busy.”

 

The twins and the familiar assess him for a long moment, and then they seem to decide as one that he’s telling the truth. “Would you be so kind as to tell him we came by?” One of them says. He hands Eduardo a business card. “Have him call us.”

 

Eduardo accepts the card. It isn’t until after he closes the door and listens to their voices fade away on the other side that he realizes his heart is racing.

 

He confronts Mark immediately when the latter arrives home. Sean is with him, so Eduardo switches to telepathy so that they aren’t overheard. He knows it’s unspeakably rude and he just _does not care_.

 

 _The Coven came sniffing around today,_ he thinks, lightning-fast, before Mark is even all the way in the door.

 

Mark frowns. _Why?_

 

Eduardo grits his teeth, because like Mark doesn’t know. It’s Eduardo who’s been left in the dark here; Mark doesn’t get to feign ignorance. _They said there’ve been unusual patterns. Magical surges. They wanted an explanation. I had to tell them I didn’t know._

 

Mark considers this. _So you sent them away?_

 

Eduardo, were he a dog at the present, would have snarled. _Of course I did. But that’s not the point. The point is that you’re doing something really big-ticket here and you’re not including me._

 

 _I was going to tell you what you needed to know when you needed to know it._ Mark’s eyes flicker over to Sean watching them with a bemused expression, but he doesn’t say anything aloud. _You could have expressed an interest earlier. I wasn’t exactly barring you from participating._

 

Eduardo throws up his hands. _I’m buried in homework, Mark, and I figured you would tell me if there were anything important. You know you’ll have to anyway, there’s no way you can do something like this without me._

 

Mark surveys him. _It’s interesting you should say that._

 

Eduardo is fast losing patience. _Why is that?_

 

Mark lifts one shoulder. _Because of what the Cloud is for._

 

Now it’s Eduardo who looks bemused, glancing from Mark to Sean and back again. _Isn’t it for – effectively magical file-sharing?_

 

Mark sucks in a breath like he’s about to launch into an explanation aloud, but he doesn’t. _It is for that. But it’s also for storing magic._

 

Eduardo’s fingers flex, the way a dog’s ears might twitch if he senses something is amiss. _Storing magic? Mark, what are you doing?_

 

 _If you have a retirement fund, you can siphon money from your regular bank account, little by little, and eventually it adds up. That way, when you retire, you have a significant amount of money available._ Mark tucks his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, like he’s strangely excited about this. _This is like that, but for magic. If I want to perform a spell that’s outside of my skillset or ability, I can store magic a little at a time until I have enough. And if I need to, I can borrow from other accounts, but I have to pay it back with interest._

 

Eduardo stares at Mark, uncomprehending. _That’s illegal._

 

Mark shakes his head. _It’s not. It’s close. But it’s not._

 

 _Mark._ Eduardo wants to shake him. _Someone could drain the reserves. Someone could take the entire magical world offline, and the regular world with it, with a power reserve like that._

 

Mark shrugs. _It was Sean’s idea. And I think it will work._

 

Eduardo rounds on Sean, but he can’t exactly yell at him in the foyer; Christy could come home at any minute, because her spin class ends at 3:30. They retreat to the bedroom via unspoken consensus, and as soon as the door is shut, Mark immediately turns to Eduardo.

 

“Dog. Now.”

 

Eduardo stares at him in helpless fury. A familiar can’t disobey a direct order, and he can already feel his mind struggling to bring about the change.

 

“Fuck you, Mark,” he says aloud, before he drops into a collie. His ears flick back, and he snarls openly at Sean, because it’s the best he can do, with no voice, and he has no interest in even looking at Mark after a fucking stunt like that.

 

Mark has _never_ given him a direct order before. Most witches don’t, bonded as they are to their familiars; you don’t deliberately antagonize the being that is the wellspring for your magic. Mark is ignoring him anyway, already turned back to his computer, and Sean is pressed close to the bed, keeping a wary eye on Eduardo.

 

“I take it he’s not excited about the Cloud,” Sean says.

 

“He’s never liked you,” Mark says, without looking up.

 

Sean snorts. “Surprise. I wonder why he snarled at me on the way out all those times.”

 

Eduardo growls, showing Sean all of his teeth. He’s no Rottweiler, but he can take some decent-sized chunks of flesh out if he wants to. Part of his job, after all, is to protect Mark. And Sean is leading Mark down a dark, dark road.

 

Sean leaves soon after that when Eduardo won’t leave him alone and Mark seems disinclined to tell him to. On his way out, Sean glances back, hand hovering over the door knob.

 

“Get your dog under control,” he says, and Eduardo tenses right there, but Mark grabs his collar before he can throw himself at Sean.

 

Eduardo refuses to speak to Mark for the last two weeks of the semester. It’s lonely and he can’t possibly tell Christy why they’re fighting. It makes him glad for winter break. He doesn’t have anywhere to go, but staying on campus by himself isn’t going to bother him. He’ll just be glad to be free of Mark.

 

At the last minute, Christy invites Eduardo to stay at her place over Christmas. At first he declines, but with two days to go he realizes how much he doesn’t want to sit in the apartment by himself for the holidays, so he quickly packs a bag and goes with her to the airport.

 

Christy’s father reminds him a little bit of his own, except that because she’s a girl, she seems to get cut some degree of slack. Christy immediately introduces Eduardo as her boyfriend without consulting him first, and it’s the best he can do not to look startled and give them away. Her father asks him a slew of questions about what kind of family he comes from and what he plans to do after graduation, and Eduardo spins his story in a way he thinks Mr. Lee will approve of, as deftly as he can. Afterward, Christy hugs him.

 

“Give a guy some warning the next time you make one your boyfriend,” Eduardo tells her.

 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” she says, not sounding very sorry. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react but you’re exactly the kind of guy my father thinks I should settle down with and I thought I’d just go for it to get him off my case.”

 

Eduardo can’t imagine Christy settling down, and he tells her so.

 

She shrugs. “Okay, accurate, but it’s not like I can tell my dad that I’d rather bang a string of college athletes than date some boring economics major, no offense.”

 

So Eduardo goes along with the charade for the two weeks they are there, although Christy drags him out to shop and sneak into clubs and meet all of her high school friends so they’re not home enough for her parents to get suspicious. Eduardo, for his part, makes a very good fake boyfriend. He pulls out Christy’s chair for her and helps her mother in the kitchen and talks business with her father. It’s almost too bad that Christy likes lacrosse players and Eduardo has Mark. He has a hunch Christy’s parents are going to be disappointed when she comes home for spring break and tells them that she and Eduardo have broken up.

 

For the first time in a long time, Eduardo is not looking forward to going back to college after the break. When they touch down in Massachusetts, he is relieved to find that Mark has not returned yet. He unpacks his things in Mark’s room, but collects his school bag and disappears to the library afterward to work on an assignment for one of his two year-long courses. By the time he comes back, Mark is asleep, and Eduardo, in collie shape, curls up on a pile of clothes on the floor of Mark’s closet. Throughout the next few days, neither one acknowledges the other.

 

To Mark’s credit, at least he tells Sean to stop coming by. Well, Eduardo doesn’t know for sure that he’s done that, but Mark takes to leaving at all hours and Eduardo knows that he’s going to Sean’s, rather than Sean coming there. He feels bitter about that, but it’s a relief not to have to deal with Sean Parker.

 

The two of them gradually begin to speak to one another again, but it’s civil at best.

 

“Can you meet me outside of the Starbucks after class?” Mark says.

 

“No.” Eduardo barely looks up from his textbook. “I have plans.”

 

Mark’s mouth flattens. “Okay.”

 

Eduardo’s not an idiot; he knows Mark is putting a lot of energy into the Cloud, which is in its finishing stages, and Mark wants a magical hit. But Eduardo’s not going to oblige, and he doesn’t think Mark would dare give him a direct order again; besides the month-long cold shoulder, Eduardo also has the capacity to never be helpful again if he chooses to. He can make it exceptionally difficult for Mark to perform magic.

 

Two days later, Mark tries again. “I ordered pizza. It came with olives.” Mark doesn’t like olives, but Eduardo does. Eduardo knows that Mark ordered it that way, even though he’ll never admit it.

 

“Guess you should pick them off,” Eduardo says.

 

Mark frowns. “I’m good. You can have it.”

 

Eduardo doesn’t touch it.

 

Christy gets sick of it in early February. “What the hell, you two,” she says one day, when Mark makes a show of avoiding the living room because Eduardo is sitting in there, cramming for a test while Christy paints her nails.

 

“What?” Eduardo looks up.

 

“You guys have been really bitchy to each other for over a month. Can someone please apologize for being a fuck-up so I don’t feel like I’m living in a Cold War?”

 

Mark is silent in the kitchen.

 

“It’s… kind of complicated,” Eduardo says.

 

Christy rolls her eyes. “Un-complicate it,” she says.

 

“How?”

 

Christy gives him a look. “Everybody just apologize for whatever, and then move _on._ Walk the fuck past it. It’s not that difficult. You’re smart boys, I have confidence that you can figure it out.”

 

The following Sunday, Mark abruptly appears in the doorway to the living room. Eduardo is typing away on his laptop, and Mark waits awkwardly for a long time before he realizes that Eduardo is not going to give him the time of day.

 

“Wardo,” he says finally.

 

“Yeah.” Eduardo doesn’t look up.

 

“I want…” Mark worries at his bottom lip, looking discomfited. “I mean. I think we should try to be friends again.”

 

“Friends?” Eduardo highlights and deletes the entire last paragraph he typed because he already knows it’s terrible; Mark is fucking distracting, even when he’s not trying to be. “I’m just your dog. You made that pretty clear.”

 

Mark’s brows knit together. “Wardo, don’t.”

 

“Is that an order?”

 

Mark’s expression is steadily darkening as he realizes how difficult this is going to be. “I didn’t know you’d react like this. I just didn’t want you to alienate Sean.”

 

“Mission accomplished,” Eduardo replies easily, like he knows how he’s making this for Mark and doesn’t care. “You alienated me instead. How’s that working out for you?”

 

Mark is silent for a moment. Then he says, with a tone of voice like he’s dragging his own kidneys out through his nose: “I’m _sorry._ ”

 

Eduardo doesn’t answer for so long that Mark almost gets impatient and leaves, giving it up for lost.

 

And then he replies, and his tone of voice leaves no room for discussion. “If you ever give me an order again that’s not for the express purpose of saving one of our lives, I’m going to finish my semester, leave the country, and never speak to you again. Do you understand? I will break my bond with you so fast, it’ll make your head spin.” Eduardo does look up then, his eyes drilling into Mark’s.

 

Mark hesitates, then he nods, quickly. “Okay.”

 

Eduardo nods, too, trusting Mark at his word. “Okay.”

 

 Mark hovers for a moment longer. “Just – I’m tired of us not talking.”

 

Mark’s on his way back in his room, closing the door behind him, when Eduardo says, “Me, too.”

 

\--

 

Things start to get better, gradually. Eduardo still sleeps as a dog, refusing to grant even the illusion of any possibility of intimacy, but he does it at the end of Mark’s bed instead of on the floor. Mark has an early class, and he gets up, cooks bacon (trust Mark to cook just bacon), and leaves it on the desk for Eduardo. There is no explanation of any kind, just a plate of bacon. Eduardo chooses to take it in the spirit he thinks it was intended, and wolfs it down as a collie. There is just something about being allowed people food as a dog that makes everything taste glorious.

 

When Mark comes home and cracks open his laptop on the living room couch, Eduardo curls up next to him with his chin on his paws, his warm weight resting lightly against Mark’s side, and he looks so sweet that even Christy doesn’t have the heart to kick him off and sits instead in their worn-out easy chair.  She complains, mostly good-naturedly, that the dog is taking over the apartment, and Mark ignores her.

 

Things aren’t all smooth sailing, of course. Mark continues to vanish for long periods of time, and Eduardo has to restrain himself from having a meltdown about Sean because he and Mark are still in a fragile place. He knows that what they’re doing with the Cloud is almost black magic, something that could get them in real trouble with the Coven, and he also knows that the Coven is already watching. It worries him, and he knows Mark can feel it.

 

By the time they get into mid-terms, Mark has stretched himself way too thin and they both know it. Eduardo takes pity on him and gives him a magical boost, but it’s not enough. Mark ends up throwing a spell-bag together to keep himself awake one Monday before class, with Eduardo’s help, and they say the spell together to make it stronger. It lasts twelve hours before Mark has to repeat it. By the end of the week, he is clutching the bag in his hand, rocking over his notes and murmuring the four or five key words of the spell over and over again. There is a high-pitched ringing in his ears that he knows can’t be a good omen. He hasn’t slept in over five days.

 

On Saturday afternoon, Eduardo takes the spell-bag out of Mark’s fingers, jerks him upright by the back of his hoodie, and pushes him into the bedroom. Without the spell-bag, the exhaustion that’s been hovering near the edges of his eyes for days slams into him, and he barely makes it to the bed before he’s out cold.

 

Eduardo shakes his head at that and settles in to read a book, keeping a watchful eye on Mark because sometimes the come-down from a spell that you pushed to its limits is a dangerous thing. Magic is like medicine in that all the time, there are unforeseen complications.

 

Eduardo knows this better than Mark, because he was born with a certain base stock of knowledge – the part of him that was chosen, whatever that means – and his father drilled him in magic almost as much as he drilled him in math. Mark has a lot of power, but he’s reckless about how he uses it and he doesn’t care about magical theory or safeguards. Some of that probably has to do with feeling invincible because nothing’s gone wrong for him yet. But some of it, Eduardo thinks, must have to do with knowing that Eduardo will always be there to bail him out.

 

Mark’s been asleep for over an hour before there’s a buzzing sound, and Eduardo automatically reaches for his own phone before he remembers that he put it on silent. It’s Mark’s, then, and Eduardo has to shuffle around the random assortment of junk on the desk before he finds it tucked against a potted plant – Angelica, good for protection, that only Eduardo ever remembers to water.

 

Eduardo does his best not to read the text as he turns the vibration off on the phone, but he sees what it says anyway:

 

_Come to the garage. I think we messed up one of the calculations. Worried the Cloud’s going to collapse._

 

It’s from Sean – of course – and Eduardo puzzles over it for a moment before he figures out that Sean must mean the garage on the western side of campus that houses the vehicles used by campus maintenance and security. _So that’s where Mark’s been going._

 

Eduardo has barely put the phone down before the screen lights up with another text.

 

_It’s urgent. This whole thing could come down on me, I don’t have the juice to hold it up by myself._

 

Eduardo wonders what Sean’s doing tinkering with something on that scale by himself, anyway. He and Mark combined must be barely pulling it off as it is, and they haven’t even launched it yet. They’re going to need Eduardo to magnify everything as much as he can while he channels it, just to have a shot at doing this, and he’s already not looking forward to it.

 

A flurry of text messages start arriving, hard and fast:

 

_Mark. Now would be good. Please._

_Jesus. Hurry up._

_Fuck. Seriously man I’ll never ask for anything else just come on._

 

Sean must be in some serious trouble if he’s _begging_ for help. Eduardo glances over at Mark, who is dead to the world, sprawled on his stomach with his face turned away so that all Eduardo can see is a bundle of curls. It would take a lot to wake him up, and even more to make him useful, given how exhausted he is.

 

Eduardo hesitates, then tucks Mark’s phone into his pocket and rises. He pauses in the doorway to the kitchen, where Christy is making a salad and humming to herself.

 

“Can you keep an eye on Mark?” He asks. “I have something urgent to do but he’s not feeling well.”

 

“Yeah, sure.” Christy is obliging enough.

 

“Just – text me if he starts to – you know, do anything alarming.”

 

Christy nods, and Eduardo is sure she’s thinking regular flu-like symptoms. “I’m on it.”

 

Eduardo hurries out of the apartment.

 

It takes him ten minutes to get there by bus and another ten minutes to get across campus, and Sean is sending texts the whole time. Eduardo answers two of them:

 

_I’m coming._

_Sean, I’m coming. Relax._

 

But it barely stems the tide.

 

When Eduardo reaches the garage, everything is dark except for the single security light over the entrance. He tries the door. It’s locked. Well, that might make sense; Mark and Sean probably don’t sneak in via the _front_ door.

 

He can feel a strange tingling in the air, though; the kind of electricity that makes his hair stand on end. There’s a sizeable outpouring of magic nearby. He picks up his pace as he walks around the building, drawn to the source of the magic like a moth to flame. When he reaches the back of the building, he has to edge past foliage that has grown up close to the building, but he is rewarded when he finds a rusted-out back door.

 

This one is unlocked.

 

Eduardo tugs it open and goes inside before he realizes that Sean isn’t alone.


	3. We're Kings Among Runaways (Sean's Version)

Sean Parker isn’t a student, but he sits in on classes sometimes. He’s pretty sure you call that ‘auditing’ a class, or something. Mostly he does it if they’re showing a restricted movie or talking about something he thinks is interesting, like the paranormal or the ethics of hacking. Sometimes he does it if a very nice-looking individual of the female persuasion is taking the class (Sean’s only human, okay?) or if he thinks the professor is a douche and needs a good trolling.

 

Either way, he’s on his way out after auditing a psychology class one day when sees the girl in the tall leather boots with long, dark hair that he’s been eyeing for the last hour and a half. When he approaches her, she gives him the once over and informs him that she likes the coffee at the little bistro near her apartment. Sean grins. College girls, man.

 

He ends up at Christy’s apartment that night. It’s a few nights later, when he’s back for potentially round two, that he meets Mark Zuckerberg. Sean can feel the magic coming off of him right away, in waves so strong it makes him blink. He can tell that Mark can read magic from him, too, and they engineer it so that they’re out of Christy’s earshot as soon as possible.

 

“I didn’t know there was another witch on campus,” Mark says.

 

“I’m not a student,” Sean replies. “I just drifted out this way. My last Coven wasn’t big on people having their own ideas about witchcraft.”

 

Sean’s never met an authority figure he hasn’t wanted to poke in the eye. He learns right away that Mark is not dissimilar, and three or four beers later, he’s telling Mark about the Cloud like they’ve known each other for years. It’s wonderful to be able to explain, in technical language, what he really wants to do, and have someone else not only understand what he’s saying, but ask pertinent questions. By the time Sean leaves that night, he knows he’s found his partner in crime.

 

The single hitch is that Mark’s familiar doesn’t seem to be his biggest fan.

 

It’s all right at first, because Sean mostly ignores him and Mark appears to be okay with that. He doesn’t force Eduardo to participate, and for the time being that keeps the familiar at bay; he seems to be busy with school work and whatever else college kids get up to nowadays, and he doesn’t seem to have the time or the inclination to pester Mark and Sean about what they’re doing.

  
Sean says, at one point, “Do you think he’s going to come through when we need him?”

 

Mark looks surprised. “Eduardo? Of course.”

 

The way he says _of course_ reminds Sean of his own familiar, once upon a time. But Amy’s no longer in the picture and Sean has to forget about ever being able to trust anyone else like that.

 

Still, whenever Sean’s at the apartment, Eduardo either leaves to study someplace else, or sits in the corner as a border collie and watches him. Sometimes he gets a growl going in the base of his throat, and it makes Sean nervous. Mark never even seems to hear it, which explains why he never tells Eduardo to knock it off, but it grates on Sean’s nerves. He knows he can’t outright slam Eduardo in front of Mark, though, so he doesn’t say anything the first, oh, hundred times it happens.

 

And then shit kind of hits the fan when the Coven reps come by.

 

Sean’s had run-ins with Covens before. The last time, the disastrous occasion where he lost his familiar, is the reason why he’s even in this ass-backwards part of Massachusetts at all. It makes him nervous that they’re keeping track of what he and Mark are doing, like the helicopter parents that they are, not trusting adult witches to handle their shit. He likes it even less that this gives Eduardo the excuse he needs to uncap all of that anger he’s been bottling up about Sean stealing his prom date.

 

All things considered, everyone involved could have handled the next ten minutes better.

 

Sean is grateful that Mark shuts Eduardo down before the latter can tear Sean a new asshole, but honestly, he already knows that Eduardo’s going to be such a bitch about it that it won’t even be worth it in the long run. Sean kind of gets where he’s coming from; he tried to give Amy an order once, and she made a rather salient point about her independence by kicking him in the pants. Familiars and witches are bonded souls, not one person who exists to indulge the every whim of the other, so Mark’s attempt to shut down the blow-out before it starts is kind of a dick move.

 

Eduardo, of course, takes it out on Sean.

 

And Sean, of course, compounds Eduardo’s existing fury when he says, all but smirking: “Get your dog under control.”

 

And then he sort of speed-walks out of there, because Eduardo may be just a mid-sized dog but he’s got an abundance of teeth that Sean has no desire to become more closely acquainted with.

 

That particular incident has its upsides and downsides. On the one hand, it forces them to find some place to begin setting up their project so that they don’t have to deal with his familiar. On the other hand, Mark is infinitely harder to get along with when he’s on the outs with Eduardo. It’s not that Sean can’t handle it – this is definitely within his pay grade; you just make Mark believe that he’s the genius and you’re the supporting actor – but it takes longer to get work done when half the time Sean is attempting a level of diplomacy that the American ambassador to Russia probably doesn’t even have to contend with.

 

Christmas happens – it’s kind of lonely, not that Sean would admit it – and Sean rings in the New Year in Times Square, because why the hell not. Then the new semester begins and Mark is back. They’re so close to completion on the Cloud now; it’s like laying all the material in place for a tent or a house or a barn, hammering everything together, and knowing that you just need to tug in the right places to raise it up. Mark is still pouring over everything, frowning at the question marks that still exist, but Sean knows better than anyone that magic is not an exact science sometimes. Sometimes you have to take risks to achieve greatness.

 

“This is our time, Mark,” he says one day, when they’ve been trouble-shooting for well over an hour. “Everyone else is going to be left holding their dicks in their hands and wondering how we got here first. But this is our fucking time.”

 

Mark’s mouth just tugs into a half-smile.

 

They’re close to mid-semester by the time Sean can just tell from Mark’s demeanour that he and Eduardo have made up. Sean doesn’t say anything, but it’s a huge relief that they can funnel extra power from somewhere. Holding up the Cloud, even in its dormant stages, is hard work; Mark always has dark circles under his eyes, and Sean has lost ten pounds. He can also tell that Mark is trying to study for mid-terms at the same time as he throws most of his energy into his work with Sean, which is just a recipe for disaster.

 

Sean brings it up on a Friday night in February, after he’s been watching Mark turn a spell-bag over and over in his hands all afternoon.

 

“Dude, you’re wasting magic,” he says. “You’ve gotta get some sleep. This is going to bury us if we’re not charged up and ready to go.”

 

“I don’t have time to sleep,” Mark snaps.

 

“Make time,” Sean says. “Prioritize.”

 

So Mark vanishes not long after that, although Sean’s not sure if it’s because of his sage words of wisdom or because Mark keeps having to go over the same equations, his exhausted brain tripping over itself.

 

Sean is therefore alone in the garage, watching the framework for the Cloud glow faintly in the dark, when someone trips one of his safeguards outside.

 

The back story here is that while Mark doesn’t care and has never cared about safety and security, Sean is a self-declared paranoid basketcase. He has good reason to be, given what’s happened in the past, and he doesn’t make apologies for it. As far as he’s concerned, it’s a productive use of magic to set up a perimeter that will deter the casual passerby and warn him if anyone does cross it. Mark didn’t participate in building it, and the look he gave Sean suggested he thought it was a waste of time, but Sean did it anyway.

 

He’s glad about that now. Standing up, Sean reaches for the spell bag he’s been keeping next to the computer for an occasion like this. Except that he doesn’t want to take his eyes off the door, and without looking, he can’t find the tiny bag. He swears it was tucked right behind the keyboard, but now – he turns to look, and he sees a pair of amber eyes staring back. Sean recoils, and the amber eyes disappear into the dark.

 

“You’re further along than we thought you would be,” someone says behind him, and Sean spins around to find himself staring at two men the size of mountains, each one in a suit, surveying the work that he and Mark have done on the Cloud.

 

Sean plunges a hand into his pocket to look for his phone, but one of the twins casually reaches out a hand, and Sean finds himself rooted to the spot.

 

“We have a business proposition for you,” says a third voice, and Sean realizes that the amber eyes belonged to a fox, which has abruptly become a dark-featured man who is dwarfed next to the two hulking giants in suits.

 

“This doesn’t feel like a business proposition,” Sean says.

 

“Then consider it a hostile takeover.” The shorter man approaches Sean to give him the once over. “I think you’ve run away from the truth for long enough, Sean Parker. Time to acknowledge that the house always wins.”

 

Sean abruptly finds himself able to move, but he doesn’t do so. He’s watching the three men warily, trying to anticipate their next move so he can plan his.

 

One of the twins says, “May we borrow your phone?” It’s as though he’s asking a total stranger on a street corner.

 

Sean acquiesces, if only because he doesn’t see what harm there will be. The closer twin’s fingers fly over the screen, and Sean belatedly realizes what they’re doing.

 

“Are you trying to bring Mark here?”

 

None of them answer him.

 

Sean wonders if maybe this is a good thing. Mark is tied to this project, heart-and-soul. He loves it even more than Sean does, and he’s certainly smart enough to figure out how to not have it taken away from him. At the very least, Sean wouldn’t mind a little company; he has no idea what the twins and their familiar have planned for him, but he doesn’t like the sound of it. _I think you’ve run away from the truth for long enough, Sean Parker._ They know him. They know what he’s done.

 

“Don’t tell Mark about Amy,” he finds himself saying, which prompts a chuckle from the shorter man and no response at all from the twins, one of whom is still focused on Sean’s phone.

 

Mark _respects_ Sean. It’s been a long time since anyone’s done that. Sean can’t, _can’t_ let him know about his failure.

 

It feels like a hundred years have passed before there’s the keening buzz that tells them all that someone has tripped the safeguards. Sean has been torn about whether he wants Mark to actually come or not. Now that he’s here, Sean is surprisingly relieved, and he thinks without venom, _coward._

 

The far door opens, and Sean blinks, because – that’s not Mark. It’s Eduardo who steps across the threshold, holding Mark’s phone, which is still buzzing from the last text the twins sent.

 

Eduardo’s eyes sweep over all of them, and he carefully tucks the phone away, not advancing any further into the room.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

The twins glance at each other. “You’re not Mark Zuckerberg.”

 

Eduardo frowns. He can sense danger, he’s just not sure what kind. “How do you know?”

 

“Because we’ve met.” One of the twins steps into the dim blue glow from the Cloud, and on Eduardo’s face dawns recognition.

 

“You work for the Coven,” he says, and in the background, Sean sags against the table. _Fuck._ The last thing he needs is more trouble with Covens. At least if these were just renegade witches, they’d get what they came for and leave well enough alone.

 

“That’s right. I’m Tyler Winklevoss. This is my brother, Cameron.”

 

“And that’s your familiar,” Eduardo interrupts, indicating the shorter man, who gives a mocking bow.

 

“Divya Narendra,” he supplies.

 

Eduardo just nods.

 

“Did Mark send you?” Cameron asks.

 

“No.” Eduardo glances at Sean, as though trying to convey _what the hell is going on,_ but Sean doesn’t know how to communicate all the ways in which they’re fucked via facial expression. “He’s sleeping off a – a magical hangover. Sean’s messages seemed pretty urgent, so I came.”

 

Sean is kind of surprised about that, since Eduardo detests every fiber of his being, but he guesses that guys with principles have done stranger things.

 

“You might be able to help us,” Divya says, glancing at the twins.

 

“Can he?” Tyler asks.

 

“Well.” Divya casts an eye over the Cloud. “It appears that Zuckerberg and Parker have rigged it so that only they can access the Cloud. A magical firewall, if you will. There’s no reason why Parker can’t circumvent that alone, by channelling through Saverin.”

 

“Why do you want to access the Cloud?” Eduardo asks warily. “Is this some kind of law enforcement situation? Because if so, even witches need warrants. There are rules.”

 

“Then I guess we’re lucky it’s not a law enforcement situation,” Divya says, and Sean wants to shake some of the naiveté out of Eduardo because he’s still not getting it.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Tyler smiles. “This is more like one of those situations where you have something that we want, and we have the authority to take it whereas you don’t have the mojo to say no.”

 

The realization dawns on Eduardo’s face, and he rounds on the one person in the room who should have anticipated this and prevented it. “Sean.”

 

“Fuck off, Saverin, now isn’t the time for I-told-you-sos,” Sean says, annoyed.

 

“How did you not see this coming?” Eduardo demands. “You can literally _drain other witches and store their power in here_.”

 

“That’s not what we meant it for,” Sean snaps.

 

“Maybe not, but it’s one hell of a weapon,” Tyler says, almost cheerfully. “This thing can’t go public. You guys understand that, right?”

 

“So destroy it,” Eduardo tells them.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Divya’s got his eyes on the dim glow of the Cloud. “We’re just going to put it in the hands of someone a little more responsible.”

 

Sean can practically read the reactions cross Eduardo’s face. Mark has put months and months’ worth of work into this. It will crush him to lose it, the same way it will crush him to watch other people twist it beyond recognition and use it for their own purposes. Eduardo doesn’t want to let it happen, but he’s not sure how to stop it.

 

“Sean, please tell Eduardo here how the two of you are going to open up my Cloud and change the access keys,” Tyler says, and it’s funny how they can continue being so courteous when Sean’s heart is racing and he’s not sure how this will end.

 

Sean, at least, doesn’t _immediately_ back down. “Or what?”

 

The twins glance at one another. “Do we have to specify that?” Cameron asks.

 

“I guess we do,” Tyler replies.

 

“We’ll wait for Zuckerberg,” Divya tells him. “Once he arrives, we can threaten Eduardo until Mark does what we want him to do. At that point, you’ll be extraneous.”

 

“We won’t even feel bad about eliminating you,” Tyler says.

 

“Career criminals have awfully high recidivism rates,” Cameron adds.

 

Eduardo almost laughs in disbelief. “You can’t _kill_ him.” He sounds like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

 

“Shut up, Saverin.” That’s Sean, and he’s as white as a sheet. “They can.”

 

“Sean, what – ”

 

But Sean overrides Eduardo. “Shut up and listen to what I’m about to tell you.”

 

He launches into an explanation of magical codes and algorithms, layers of witchcraft balanced on one another in a way that’s so complex that even Eduardo has trouble following. By the end of it, Sean’s explaining how to get in without collapsing the structure in on yourself, which is what will happen to the Winklevosses and Narendra if the keys haven’t been changed to recognize their identities.

 

“How do you know it will work with me?” Eduardo asks.

 

“Because any residual magic you have that I might pick up when I channel through you will be Mark’s,” Sean explains. “And the Cloud will recognize it.”

 

Eduardo hesitates, stalling for time, because Mark won’t – Mark won’t forgive him if he lets this go without a fight. “Why don’t you have your own familiar? Why does it have to be me?”

 

The twins seem to find that at least mildly amusing.

 

“Tell him why you don’t have your own familiar, Parker,” Tyler says.

 

Cameron adds, “Yes, I’d be interested to hear your version.”

 

“Your version?” Eduardo echoes, and in that moment, Sean _hates_ him.

 

“It’s not story time,” Sean snaps, but the way Divya’s eyes pass over him, with that hint of gold, makes something tighten around his chest that’s not his own plethora of respiratory issues, and Sean abruptly knows that for them, humiliating him will be almost as fun as killing him. He doesn’t want to die like this. That desire bears narrow priority over not wanting Saverin to have something to hold over his head.

 

“Her name was Amy,” Sean says, through gritted teeth. “We were doing small-time theft back in California. It got more dangerous when we started stealing from witches, but the rewards were better. We were breaking into a Coven house when she got tangled in their protection magic. Like touching an electric fence. It kept pulling magic out of me through her and I thought that if I broke the circuit it might let us go.”

 

“Oh, Sean, no,” Eduardo breathes, because he already knows what’s coming next.

 

“I severed our bond,” Sean says. “I fucking – hacked at it until it gave away. The fence let her go, and me, but something happened to her because of the way the bond was broken, I guess; while my magic was being dragged through her.”

 

Eduardo wants badly to ask if she’s dead, but he doesn’t have the heart to make Sean say it.

 

“She’s in a coma in San Diego.” Divya volunteers the information anyway. “The Coven there keeps an eye on her.”

 

“Are you happy now, Saverin?” Sean demands, and Eduardo wants to tell him that he never meant it to come to that, that he knows what it feels like when someone breaks the bond between witch and familiar, even when you want it to happen. But he doesn’t.

 

“Sean, I’m sorry,” he says, but Sean’s eyes are fixed on the Cloud.

 

“Let’s just do this,” he answers, sounding strained and pissed off.

 

“Don’t.”

 

Mark’s voice startles them all, apparently; he can’t have tripped the safeguards, but Sean’s not sure how he otherwise would have gotten in. He’s standing in the doorway, so tired he’s almost swaying, but his eyes are sharp.

 

“Nice of you to show up, Mark,” one of the twins says.

 

“Get out,” Mark replies, without preamble. And then he reaches for Eduardo’s hand, and Eduardo catches the sudden burst of magic that Mark sends down the circuit and buries one of the twins in it.

 

Mark frowns. “No, Wardo – ”

 

“If you want to gut a witch, kill his familiar,” Divya advises, before a wave of something red and furious comes at them and Mark only just throws up a barrier in time. When the two forces collide, they are showered in sparks. Eduardo drops to all fours, a border collie once more, because it’s easier to channel magic this way, and he’s less of a target.

 

Sean’s not sure when this became a full-blown magical battle, but _fuck_ if he doesn’t want to get caught in the middle.

 

Mark and Tyler are focused on each other now, testing each other’s weaknesses. Tyler gets the jump on them once and hammers into Eduardo, who recoils, whimpering; Mark responds with such a fury of attacks that Tyler is forced back. Divya almost stumbles as he tries to stay behind Tyler, until he backs up against something and can’t move any further.

 

He makes eye contact with Sean and Sean thinks, recklessly, _this probably qualifies as ‘caught in the middle’_ before he gives Divya a very precise shove. Divya takes one, two unbalanced steps back and falls into the Cloud.

 

He doesn’t have the key, of course, and the firewall activates. The entire thing begins to crumble around him, like a magical torrent of water. The sound he makes is like no sound Sean has ever heard from a human being, before he remembers that Divya isn’t always human, and this is the sound of his magical side drowning.

 

The way the Cloud begins to run together captures Mark’s attention for just a moment, but it’s enough. Tyler’s face twists, and he says something they can hardly hear. Sean sees Eduardo almost collapse onto his side from across the room and knows that Tyler went for the kill on that one.

 

There’s a steady rumbling, and Sean knows the roof is going to come down. The way the Cloud is collapsing in on itself, he wouldn’t be surprised if it’s tearing a hole in the magical framework of things. Sean doesn’t know much about magical black holes, but he suspects it would be better not to stick around and get first-hand experience.

 

He pushes past Tyler and makes for the door, knowing that Mark is following – he has to be following, doesn’t he? – and not really giving much of a shit what Tyler’s doing since without a familiar, he’s just a man with a party trick, just like Sean.

 

And then they’re outside, ducking through the trees that grow up right against the side of the building, and Mark is practically dragging Eduardo away from the building, hand in his collar.

 

“We have to get clear,” Sean says. “This is going to go nuclear. Fuck, Mark, I’m sorry.”

 

“Just go,” Mark says tightly, and Sean knows that Mark doesn’t blame him, because it’s both of their faults, but Eduardo might be dying and Mark can’t walk this world alone like Sean does, he really can’t.

 

Sean leaves them to it, and he’s almost four streets over before he hears a horrible cracking sound, like something rent the atmosphere. Sean wonders, despite himself, whether Eduardo is gone, whether Mark is hunched over him somewhere, grieving, or if he’s been able to save him. Sean doesn’t like Eduardo at all, but he doesn’t wish his death on Mark. Sean knows how that goes.

 

He picks up his pace. He’s heard that southern California is nice this time of year.

 

Maybe he’ll stop by a hospital in San Diego and ask after a girl.


End file.
